One of Morgan's Men. John M. Porter
how long.
A chance of escaping the fate of being confined in prison was presented, and so Joseph S. Gray, Dempsey Burton Bailey and Dr. Frank Porter and myself availed ourselves of it and fortunately succeeded. Our hope of success was indeed little. A good many civilians had been made prisoners at Fort Donelson and conveyed with the soldiers to St. Louis. Major General Henry Halleck, the Federal commander, whose headquarters were at that time in the city, directed that all the citizens should be sent back to the place of capture and there released. One day a Yankee officer came on the boat and required all the citizens to give him their names to be taken to headquarters and acted upon. By chance, one of our party heard the officer make that announcement, and he immediately proposed that we should all try the chance. Three objected, and the four of us before named consented to the plan, wrote our names on a slip of paper, and gave it to the officer, having very little hope that we would ever again hear anything about it more.13
Three days afterwards we were on a boat coming back to Fort Donelson. Our names had been included in the number to be released, and when we were called, we gladly responded. No oath of any kind was required, and we took none. I do not deny that it was dissembling and deceiving the enemy, but I am firm in my convictions that we were justified in our action, and am utterly astonished, when I reflect upon it, that more did not make the attempt as we did. Nothing was easier. I venture such an opportunity given a year later would have been crowded with eager applicants. Very few tried it; only four, as I think.
3
IT WAS LITERALLY A LEAP
IN THE DARK
From the time of John M. Porter's capture at Fort Donelson and his release to his reaching General Albert Sidney Johnston's army, the strategic picture in the trans-Appalachian west changed dramatically. With the fall of Forts Henry and Donelson, General Grant's Federal forces controlled the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers and could move into the interior of the Confederacy at will. General Johnston had no alternative but to withdraw below those rivers. He selected Corinth, Mississippi, as the site where the widely scattered elements of his army and other Confederate forces in the Gulf states could converge. Corinth was the site of the crossing of the north-south Mobile and Ohio Railroad and the east-west Memphis and Charleston Railroad; moreover, it was situated below the great bend of the Tennessee River. Covering the rear of Johnston's army as it retreated from Nashville to Murfreesboro and from Murfreesboro to Decatur, Alabama, and on to Corinth, was Captain John Hunt Morgan's squadron of Kentucky cavalry.
After secreting himself home upon his release from captivity, Porter followed on horseback in the wake of the retreating Confederate army all the way to northern Alabama in an effort to rejoin his comrades. All of Kentucky and all of west and central Tennessee were occupied by Federal troops by then, making Porter's travels perilous.
In a few days we were again at Dover in view of the field of recent strife. But how different was the scene from the appearance of it when we arrived there from Clarksville on the twelfth of February before. The boat we were on was bound for Nashville, and had a regiment of Yankee cavalry on board. By a little strategy we remained on the boat till we got to Clarksville, although they wanted us to get off at Dover.
When we went ashore at Clarksville we proceeded to a hotel and, although without any money except Confederate currency, the proprietor told us we could stay till morning, it being late in the evening. The proprietor was of the name of Spurrier, the same who keeps at this time the Spurrier House in Louisville. We gave him some Confederate money for his pay, which he was even then willing to take although its circulation had been interdicted by the Yankees, of whom there were, at that time in the city, some nine thousand and perhaps more.1
The night was spent at the hotel, and morning found us in no very desirable position. Our desire was to make our way out of the city and get to our homes. The Red River footbridge in the suburbs of Clarksville was strictly picketed by Yankee troops and there was no other means out than over that bridge. The waters were high; all canoes, skiffs, and boats were guarded, and we were compelled to cross that bridge.
Partly by strategy and partly by the influence of friends and by making the impression that we were wood choppers and wanting to go over the river for the purpose of cutting cord wood, we obtained a pass from the officer in command. Thus equipped, we were permitted to go over the bridge and were then ferried across the water from the end of the bridge to the hill on the side next to Russellville, the entire bottom being over-flowed several feet in depth.
After being safely ferried over by the Yankee guards we were on a good turnpike, and, once again, felt free. We felt as if we could walk to our homes during the day and before its close.
We walked on as speedily as possible and continued until, becoming very much fatigued, we halted for the night near Camp Boone at the house of a Mr. Mimms where we were kindly and hospitably entertained by that family who were ardent Southerners. The Mimms's house is on the pike from Clarksville to Russellville.2
The next morning Dr. Porter was too unwell to proceed further, and, at the urgent solicitation of the kind family, he concluded to remain until he got better. He remained until he was able to travel, and then went to Cousin Jane Porter's near Elkton, Kentucky. Gray, Bailey and I started on towards Russellville and soon found a wagon going to that place, and, as it was not loaded, we were permitted to ride on it.3
At about sunset, we reached the suburbs of Russellville. We had been stationed there for some weeks before going to Fort Donelson, and were afraid of being recognized by someone and then arrested by the soldiers who were garrisoning that town. We were very cautious and had reason for it. Dismounting from the wagon at the edge of town, each of us took a different route through town, one going by one street and another by another, agreeing as we separated to meet on the Morgantown Road on the opposite side of town, and if one got through and waited a certain time without hearing from the others, he was to take care of himself, being satisfied of the capture of the others. We fortunately passed through without being interrupted, and all met as per agreement and proceeded about three or four miles to the house of a Mr. Withers where we spent the night, representing ourselves as workmen who had been engaged on the railroad near the Tennessee River, and were going north.4
The next day we walked on in the snow and slop and mud, the march being very tiresome. When we got to the Pleasant Hill Church, near the old tanyard of Mr. Anderson, we went in and lay down on the benches for the purpose of resting ourselves and remained there for some time. Bailey left us near there and went to his cousin Eaton Davis's home nearby.5
Joseph Gray and I went to Uncle Moody's, who lived only a few miles from the church. We remained there till after supper and he kindly furnished us a horse a piece, and we rode home to Sugar Grove, arriving there about ten o'clock at night. It was the night of March 6, 1862, that we got home. Rumors of various kinds had been put in circulation in regard to our detection and probable arrest. We had been seen and recognized indeed before we got home. The report of it had been circulated, and fortunately we heard it and prepared to leave as soon as possible. Gray was sent on his way to his home in Hardin County near Elizabethtown. This left Bailey and myself alone to make our way out to the Confederate army which had retreated from Bowling Green and at that time was moving on toward Corinth, Mississippi.6
I spent the day of the seventh of March at home, and at dark, Bailey sent me a message, saying he would meet me at midnight at a Mr. Proctor's, in Logan County, about twelve miles distant. Bidding our home ones farewell, I set out in the darkness upon a journey the length of which I had no idea of, nor did I scarcely know by what route I would go. The army was in retreat, I knew. But where it was, where it would stop, and how and when I should reach it were matters of which I could form no idea. It was literally taking a leap in the dark. That the trip would be full of peril and adventure, I well knew, yet Bailey and I were determined to rejoin our command.7
At about eleven o'clock that night, the seventh of March, I arrived at Mr. Proctor's. The family